


Serenity

by doctor__idiot



Series: Tumblr Prompts [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Gen or Slash, M/M, Post-Series, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: "Read to me."





	Serenity

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [ilostmyshoe-79](http://ilostmyshoe-79.tumblr.com)'s Sweet Emotions Challenge. My prompt was "serenity".

“Hey,” Sam nudges him right as he’s drifting off, “Don’t fall asleep. We’ve still got a lot to go through.”

Dean shakes himself out of his slumber, exhaustion a lingering fog in his brain. He groans, “Shit, my eyes hurt.”

Sam chuckles and drops onto the couch next to him. “Here.” He hands over the perspirating beer bottle he’s holding in his left hand.

Dean grabs for it on autopilot. “Thanks.” He takes a sip. “Maybe I should get something with caffeine.”

“Already put a pot on,” Sam says while he’s hauling books from the table and piling them onto his lap.

Dean hums, watching him. “You take such good care of me.”

Sam shoots him a look that’s half-amused, half-exasperated, and fully tired. The pair of glasses on his nose is slightly askew and he pushes them up to rub his eyes, then positions them correctly. It wasn’t until recently that he had to get prescription lenses. Dean is sure that all that nightly research on his computer is at least partly to blame for it.

“Right.” He sighs, stretches. “What are we looking at?”

Sam makes an impatient grunting noise. “What we’ve _been_ looking at. So far we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“Right,” Dean says again and slumps down into the cushions. God, he’s tired. It’s almost midnight and the last night only held about three hours of sleep for him. Probably even less for Sam.

Dean had never had problems sleeping. Exhausting himself on the job, working until late into the night, and getting up early usually takes care of that. The little sleep he does get he tends to make full use of.

But insomnia has been plaguing both of them for some time now. Dean doesn’t know what it is. It could be the beginning of summer, humid and full of mosquitoes, that’s keeping them awake.

Often times, Dean finds himself outside of their cabin, standing on the porch with his hands in his pockets and taking in the night sky that has never been clearer than out here in the middle of nowhere. He listens to the crickets in the grass and the rolling of thunder in the distance that’s one of the more common occurrences for the seasons of spring and summer in these parts.

He has never minded thunderstorms, always kind of liked them in fact. They’ve got a purifying quality to them. When the noise stops and the air clears afterwards, it feels like a whole new world.

“Where are you right now?” Sam asks into the quiet.

Dean looks over at him, takes in the lines around his eyes and the halo-like shine of moonlight in his hair. “Let’s leave it for now. Let’s go outside.”

Sam regards him for a moment, possibly deciding whether he should argue, should point out that the case takes precedence, but his exhaustion is too obvious and his resignation inevitable. He closes his book and pushes up from the couch with a groan of effort.

“Grandpa,” Dean chides, then bites back his own moan of discomfort when his knees straighten. Sam raises a silent but judgemental eyebrow at him.

The air has cooled from the day but it still feels vaguely like breathing syrup. Flies are buzzing in the dim shine of the porch lamp. Dean deposits his beer on the barrister, leans back against the pillar that’s holding up the roof, and watches the insects circling.

“You know,” he begins to get his brother’s attention, “I’m glad we came out here. I like it here.”

Sam says softly, “I know you do.” Then he adds, “Bunker gets stuffy after a while.”

They both know it doesn’t, they’ve got amazing air circulation, but it feels like it regardless. Dean gives him a smile. “Yeah.”

Sam is hovering in the door frame and Dean is about to tell him to sit his ass down when Sam says, “I’ll be right back.”

Dean sighs, turns back around to the dark sky, and sips his beer. There are no crickets tonight, it’s almost eerily silent and he wonders why that is. It’s got an apprehensive feeling to it, prickling at the back of his neck, as if something’s coming nature already knows about but he doesn’t.

Sam’s feet fall heavy behind him and when he turns around Sam holds out a blanket to him.

“‘m not cold,” Dean says, “It’s still way too warm.”

“It’ll cool down,” Sam returns simply and curls another blanket around his own shoulders before he sinks into one of the porch chairs. He’s brought a book with him, one he was slugging through earlier, and he puts it down on his knees.

“Thought we’d agreed to stop working for the night.”

Sam gives him a wry smile. “Do we ever stop working? Sit down.”

It’s a gentle request but one that doesn’t leave room for argument and Dean grins as he follows his brother’s example, plopping himself down onto a wooden chair. “What is it?” he asks because Sam’s still got that look in his eyes.

He holds out the book to Dean. “Read to me.”

“What?”

“Read to me.”

Dean’s forehead furrows. “Why? It’s boring.”

That makes Sam laugh. His mouth stretches until the whites of his teeth show, stark against the backdrop of the night. Sam has always been utterly stunning when he laughed.

He’s still got his arm outstretched, waiting for Dean to take the book, and finally Dean does. He opens it up to the page Sam has marked and focuses his eyes on the first paragraph. The light from the lamp shines right over his shoulder and it isn’t too hard to make out the writing, although it does swim a little before his eyes.

He watches Sam more than the page while he reads, which causes him to stop and stumble more than occasionally but Sam doesn’t say anything. He switches between staring at the sky and at Dean and Dean can’t decide which time he looks fonder.


End file.
